Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Poems of the day 11.11.08

we are childrenslinging mudand we are pound and eliotat each other’s throatson a rickety french balcony

(okay, for the sake of argumenti will be pound)

when will it end, old friend?when we are codgersthrowing canesinstead of poems?

or now when the cup ofour golden daydreamssit on etched plattersplaced before our salivating mouths?

i hope neveron both accounts

because it would be a shameto hate your beautiful wordsfrom the nosebleed seats

float on, okay

we have a sipon the scotchhear the buzzof the fanthe hum of thethe refrigeratorthen i ask herhow it wentat the doctor’sand she saidit went finethe breasts are finethe insides are fineeverything is finethen i ask herif she talkedto the doctorabout ushaving babiesand she saidnonot based on lastnight’s conversationin the barand i saidokaythen we hadanother sipon the scotchheard the buzzof the fanthe hum of therefrigeratorand i saidmaybe next yearwe’ll think aboutgoing to venicefor a weekright before thesummer comesagain.

About Me

WineDrunk SideWalk: Shipwrecked in TrumpLand wants your poems, fiction, art, photographs etc...anything relating to what is going on in the country since 01.20.17. go from the personal to the universal...previously published work welcome SUBMIT2RESIST winedrunksidewalk@gmail.com